


Third Eye

by lo_ki



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Brotherhood, Brothers, Gen, Hell Trauma, Hurt Sam Winchester, POV Sam Winchester, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Dean Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-15
Updated: 2020-10-15
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:21:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27025741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lo_ki/pseuds/lo_ki
Summary: [Suptober Day 15] - [Sam's POV]
Comments: 2
Kudos: 9
Collections: Suptober 2020 (EN)





	Third Eye

I love the days when we don’t have a hunt to do, or research, or anything. Even if working is helping me feel useful, I’m not against a few days off. When Dean, Jack, Cas and I are simply enjoying staying in pajamas the whole day, watching Netflix all together or not, napping or eating in the bed. That was exactly what I was doing right now. I was in my bed, a beer and a little Caesar salad in front of Netflix, watching some random things. It was a documentary about cults and Witches in the United States. Most of the time I was rolling my eyes because what people were saying wasn’t that true, especially about Witches but well… They don’t know about the real Supernatural world. A given moment, the documentary focused on Satanism, black Church and so on. I didn’t notice that I swallowed hard a lot of time, hearing what people were saying about this. And from time to time, they used violent pictures and flashes and kind of jump scares. I often closed my eyes or jumped at the loud sounds and I even spilled my beer on the bed. Shit. Okay, that wasn’t good. I shouldn’t react like that in front of a simple documentary where almost all the information about the Supernatural were false. I closed my laptop – where I was watching the documentary and took my earphones off. Well, I put away everything that was on my bed, including the blankets and pillows.

I sat cross-legged in the middle of it and placed my head in between my hands. Okay… Breathe Sam. It’s okay. It’s nothing. It’s just images. But it didn’t want to stop, even if I closed my eyes. The pictures of the documentary became distorted and some sounds were very loud in my head. What was happening? The pictures in my head weren’t even from the documentary anymore. They… Oh. No. No, no, no, no. No, please. Not this. Not right now. These pictures weren’t of a cult or anything. They were from Hell. These were actual memories from Hell. From the cage. With him. With… I scratched my scalp, digging my nails into my head in order to try to make the sounds and pictures stop. Trying to focus on the reality of my nails scratching my skin, like I did on my wounded hand when I had hallucinations of Lucifer. No. I couldn’t even pronounce his name without seeing his face. His real face. Down there in the Cage, when I was alone with him, and… Michael and Adam going nuts. I began to feel an uncomfortable tingling sensation on my face. My heartbeat was going crazy and I began to have trouble breathing. Was that a panic attack? My whole body was tensed and I couldn’t even raise my head or move to drink some water or… anything. I was petrified. I was hot and cold at the same time. My throat very dry and some tears were leaving my eyes. I had some spasms from time to time, as if I was gradually losing control over my body. As if I was possessed? No. No, it’s just my imagination, _it’s just a panic attack_.

At a given moment, I thought I heard my door opening and someone calling out to me but it was a muffled echo in my head. I felt a weight on my bed and hands gripping my shoulders to make me raise my head. Somehow, I could feel that this presence wasn’t bad.

“Sammy…? Sammy, can you hear me?”

I managed to raise my head and looked at my interlocutor. Dean took my face with his hands.

“What are you doing Sammy…? Dean said with a very soft voice and a hint of worry. “Come on, follow my breathing. Inhale… Exhale… Come on, buddy.”

I tried to follow Dean’s breathing, unable to speak. My spasms gradually stopped and I felt less and less the tingling sensation on my face, simply looking at Dean and trying to have a regular breathing. My trembling hands slowly grabbed Dean’s two forearms. My brother nodded.

“You’re okay, now?” Dean said while leaving my bed and getting up to bring me a glass of water.

“I- uh… Yes… I…”

“What’s up with this panic attack? Did something specific happened to you?” My brother asked before handing me the glass.

I drank a bit of water, my throat getting better. I also quickly dried my tears, not really enjoying the fact that my big brother was seeing me in such a poor state.

“I-I don’t know, I was watching a documentary, drinking a beer and eating a salad.” I began.

“Yeah, like the big healthy nerd you are.” Dean said with a banter tone to light the mood.

I shook a bit my head and managed to smile a little, which Dean noticed and he smiled even more. I cleared my throat, way calmer than before.

“The documentary was about cults and witches and at a moment it talked about Satanism.”

Dean sighed and shifted slightly on the bed, his face a bit serious now as if he was aware of what I was about to say next. I looked down a moment.

“I think it was the way the documentary was directed because some pictures were violent and there were some loud sounds and it was a bit epileptic you know? Those flashes and awful pictures… It… It mixed a bit with my own memories and… uh… Well, I think I lost it.”

I took a deep breath and passed a hand over my face before looking at Dean shyly. He nodded several times, licking his lips before looking at me too.

“Well, you’re safe now.” He said with still a soft voice. “I’m with you and you’re safe. It was a goddamn panic attack and it happens. Just… Avoid those crappy documentaries, okay?”

I nodded, agreeing with his last sentence. Then I frowned a bit.

“Dean…?”

“Yup?”

“How did you know I was having a panic attack? I didn’t… scream or anything…”

Dean looked at me with wide eyes for a second before smiling slightly.

“Well, I guess I have a third eye when it comes to you.”

“That’s the kind of thing a mother would say, Dean.” I said.

Dean looked at me with a meaningful face, his eyes saying a lot. Oh. I huffed a bit and smiled, looking down for a second before looking at Dean again.

“Thank you, Dean, … I don’t want to know how long this panic attack would have lasted if you weren’t here.”

“You’re welcome Sammy. Don’t… hesitate to come to me when you feel like shit. I mean, I’m bad with words but… I know that a drive with Baby, good burgers or a night playing pool is making me feel good. And though you are my brother – even if you are a healthy son of a bitch, I’m pretty sure it’s making you feel good too.”

I huffed again and nodded.

“Yeah, I’m sure too.”

Dean patted my shoulder and got up before leaving the room. 

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, hope you liked it :) I admit I really loved writing this OS even tho a panic attack is not fun at all. But I wanted to write something about PTSD and Sam has clearly a trauma with Hell (such as Dean) so...


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